Vindicated
by MagpieDreamer
Summary: A little episode tag for the end of 'Suspicion'. Teyla contemplates having to leave, and John offers her a leaving present, of sorts. Teyla&John Friendhship.


A/N: This is an episode tag for 'Suspicion', and it's pretty short. It's not really a 'shipper fic, it just contains Teyla, John and a necklace... but it's friendship rather than 'ship.  
  
At least, I think so. Interpret at will!

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis or it's characters. I'm not making any money. You know the drill... And sueing me is pointless. I have no money. I have a cat. She's cute, but she stinks, and she hides dead mice in your shoes. You don't want her, trust me.

**Vindicated**

_Hope dangles on a string,_

_Like slow spinning redemption,_

_Winding in and winding out,_

_The shine of it has caught my eye,_

_It roped me in, _

_So mesmerising,_

_So Hypnotizing,_

_I am captivated,_

_I am vindicated,_

_I am selfish,_

_I am wrong,_

_I am right,_

_I swear I'm right,_

_I swear I knew it all along, _

_And I am flawed,_

_But I am cleaning up so well,_

_I am seeing in me now,_

_The things you swore you saw yourself._

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

Teyla was used to moving around.

Change had been the one constant in her life. Her childhood had been nothing but movement; a turbulent stream of passage from one place to another, the path strewn with corpses. The Athosians had to move around. It was what kept them alive, away from the wraith.

Well, more so than if they'd stayed still.

But this change… this move… it felt bitter. There was a sour taste to it that left her feeling knotted, unhappy. It was a waste. Such a waste. A waste of what could have been such a good situation, a coalition between her people and the humans from Earth, a chance to make their people great again, to finally see the downfall of the wraith.

To see vengeance, in all its bloody pettiness.

All that, every chance of it, three month's worth of desperate friend-making, culture-crossing, relationship-building… all destroyed in a single weeks worth of bad judgement and betrayal.

Sometimes all Teyla wanted to do was curl up and cry.

What was the point? What was the point of doing this if it was so fragile? So delicate that a single breath of doubt could sweep it clean without a trace?

_Because the wraith killed father_, that little sensible voice at the back of her head reminded her, _because they killed everyone. Because they have to be stopped, and this is the only way to do it._

But she still couldn't stop it tasting bitter.

Teyla continued to throw things into her bag. She wasn't really leaving, she reminded herself. She was still part of Major Sheppard's team, still acting ambassador and representative from her people to theirs, and this room would still be reserved for her when events in the city warranted an over-night stay. But soon she would be back with her people on the main land, creating a new home, maybe even a permanent home, having conversations where she understood the words they used, the culture they referred to, the grief that ran through their veins.

One final item, a comb, dropped into her bag, and she was ready to go. She was deliberately leaving things here, to remind herself, to remind everyone, that she was coming back. But everyuthing she needed had been packed. That was it… time to leave.

Again.

"Hey."

Teyla looked round, and was not entirely surprised to see Major John Sheppard lounging in her doorway, watching her. He gestured at the room, "you leaving so soon?"  
Teyla shrugged, lifting her bag, (it wasn't large or heavy), "I must join my people. They need me with them. But I will be coming back."

"Good," John decided. "Don't wanna loose you off my team."

"I said I would be coming back," Teyla repeated.

"And I said good," John answered, "you be careful out there, okay? Take care of yourself. Don't go… running into any wraith ships or anything."

Teyla smiled slightly in amusement, "I will try not to."

"Right," he looked suddenly awkward, shifting his weight, digging his hands into his pockets. "I uh… I brought you something. Kind of… thanks-for-not-deliberately-screwing-us-over present."

That drew a raised eyebrow. "What?"

A little hesitantly, John reached into his pocket and withdrew a necklace, and took a few steps forward, holding it out to her. "It's… it's for you… I mean, to replace the old one…"

Teyla took it from him, surprise quickly turning to something far gooier, a feeling she swiftly quashed. She really didn't want to be having feelings of the gooey variety for anyone at that particular moment, least of all John Sheppard. But it was so… thoughtful of him. And the necklace was… well… pretty. It was a locket, a small oval of silver, hanging from a silver chain.

"Thank you." She had to admit, she was touched. Although, she instantly wondered where in the galaxy he had managed to obtain such an object. Surely men did not typically carry such things around?

John looked sheepish, "it was my mom's… I smuggled it in with me. Doctor Weir doesn't know. We're only supposed to have one personal item each."

Teyla looked at him in surprise, "your mother's? Major, John, I could not possibly take this…"

"Aw, go on," John waved her off, "it'll look better on you than it ever would on me. Just… take care of it for me, okay?"  
Teyla nodded, "of course."

"Here, let me," John took the necklace from her, unfastening it at the back and carefully clipping it back around her neck. An eerie sense of déjà vu suddenly hit him, and he sincerely began to wish this necklace did not bring about the same circumstances that they were now having to deal with. He stood back to admire his work, and grinned. "There, what did I tell you? It does look better on you than it would on me."  
She smiled. "Thank you."

"No problem." He shrugged. "You uh… you take care of yourself. Safe journey and all."

"I will," Teyla answered. She was already thinking of her people, wondering what her reception might be, their knowledge she had been the traitor, however unwittingly, the one Athosian never considered and the only one guilty .

Without another word, or a glance back, she headed for the door, and left the room.


End file.
